


Read Me Like A Book

by RobiTheRat



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting onto Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub's name is Bea, Crowley Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), F/M, Gabriel is a Dick (Good Omens), Hastur and Ligur are Creepy, Highschool AU, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lucifer's name is Lucas, M/M, Marijuana, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Nonbinary Character, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Yes i ripped the title from a different fic I wrote but shhhh, and also in love, and i love him dearly, but i only know how to give characterization through emotional trauma so, im really bad at tags, they are minors and i dont like writing sexy stuff so no smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26901691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobiTheRat/pseuds/RobiTheRat
Summary: After losing his parents, Crowley is forced to live with his uncle, Lucas, in his overly tidy Tadfield mansion. After a fight, Crowley is forced to begin volunteering at his new school's library, where he meets a boy with dandelion fluff hair and kindly blue eyes, who somehow changes Crowley's whole worldview.Or, Author is overly self-indulgent and decided to write Yet Another High School AU. Heed the tags. It isn't overly-angsty, but there are some heavy topics here.On a short hiatus
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley & Hastur & Ligur (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to what will probably end up being one of my longest fics ever. Some slight warnings here for: Implied/ Referenced Character Death, mentions of underage smoking, as well as an argument between Crowley and Lucas that results in Crowley experiencing Angst.
> 
> I hope you enjoy ^-^

The last box was set down on the bed. Crowley crossed his arms, looking disapprovingly at the barren room through his sunglasses. His uncle, Lucas Morningstar, went to pat him on the shoulder, then thought better of it. 

“Think you can get yourself set up?” He asked. Crowley made a noncommittal noise in response, keeping his eyes forward. Lucas sucked in a breath, debating on whether or not he dared to say anything else. Deciding against it, he nodded, before walking out the door. As soon as he heard the ‘click’ of the door closing, Crowley walked over to the bed, and fell onto it. He scrubbed a hand over his face, mussing up his glasses as he glared at the ceiling. He felt out of place in the giant house, like he’d been swallowed whole. Everything in his uncle’s Tadfield Manor was so _nice_ , and he could hardly stand it. He threw an arm over his eyes, and simply lay on the comforter, caught up in his own thoughts.

It was nearly an hour of quiet, before Bea kicked open his bedroom door. They regarded him with dark eyes, then closed the door behind them, throwing their bookbag on the ground. 

“You look like shit.” Was all they said, plopping down next to Crowley on the bed and pulling out their phone. Crowley scoffed.

“Gee, thanks. Has anyone ever told you that you’re about as pleasant as a dead rat?” He sat up, and the two were quiet for a moment. Crowley wondered if he’d get used to seeing Bea everyday. They were petite--the smallest person Crowley had ever seen, really. They had a fairly large birthmark, covering most of the right side of their face, and their black hair shadowed their features. It made them look menacing, and Crowley figured he would almost be intimidated if he hadn’t seen them cry after he stepped on their “pet” Beatle when they were eight.

“What?” They asked gruffly, and Crowley realized he’d been staring at them. He shook his head, mumbling ‘nothing’ and the two lapsed into silence for another moment. Bea turned off their phone to stare at the blank wall in front of them. “Dad says you’re starting school next week.” Crowley groaned.

“Don’t remind me. I can’t believe they make you wear _uniforms_ here.” He flopped back onto the bed, and Bea followed him. 

“Oh please, they aren’t that bad. You can leave your shirt untucked, loosen your tie at least.” They pointed to their own red tie, which was hanging just below their collar, still on after getting back from school. Crowley pouted anyway. “Whatever, you can just skip with Hastur and I. We usually go find Ligur and have a smoke in the courtyard in the morning.” 

Crowley hummed “Maybe.” He said. He wasn’t anxious about smoking on the school grounds. Hell, he did it all the time, and he knew that Bea was smart enough to get past any obstacles. He trusted them. Hastur and Ligur on the other hand....

“I know what you’re thinking.” Bea said, interrupting his thoughts. “Hastur and Ligur are cool, I promise. Just don’t be a prick.” Crowley feigned innocence.

“What makes you think I would be a prick to your best mates? I can be cool.” Bea laughed, a sort of shrill thing. Like breaking glass. Crowley stuck his tongue out at them, showing off the piercing in the centre. The two lay together for a while longer, talking about nothing much, when Lucas called them down for dinner. 

“Ugh, I don’t trust his cooking for a minute.” Crowley groused. He lifted himself off the mattress and followed after Bea. They scoffed.

“It’s not that bad. Not like it’s his fault you’re so picky.” They turned and poked Crowley in the stomach, before bounding off toward the kitchen. Crowley ran after them, laughing lightly. He stopped once he made it to the dining room, where Lucas looked up at him in disdain. Bea only gave him a smug smile from their place at the table, before scooping a spoonful of soup into their mouth. Crowley sat down, a bit uneasily. 

“Did you start unpacking?” Asked Lucas, hardly looking up from where he stirred his soup. 

“Er, a little.” Crowley lied. Why did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like Lucas wanted him here. He only took Crowley in out of legal obligation. 

They ate mostly in silence, just the steady sound of spoons clinking against bowls. Crowley could almost feel the tension choking him. He wished Lucas would just say whatever it was he needed to and let them carry on. It wasn’t until their bowls were cleaned that Lucas cleared his throat. 

“Anthony, come this Monday, you’ll be starting school.” Crowley resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Now, I know your reputation, so I’ve decided that you’ll need to find something productive to do with your free time in order to keep yourself out of trouble. I don’t need you out there causing issues for us.” Crowley gawked at his uncle. He couldn’t be serious, right?

“Do you understand?” Lucas asked, his tone and face stern. Crowley narrowed his eyes. 

“You aren’t serious.” He sneered. “What do you want me to do? _Volunteer_?”

“That’s one option.” Said Lucas thoughtfully. “I just don’t want you to risk getting yourself into trouble here. You’re growing up, you need to start acting like it. Moving here is a fresh start for you.” 

“Yeah, right. Poor little orphan boy needs a fresh start? Need to prove myself to you? What right do you have-”

“I have every right!” Lucas spat. Crowley flinched back, but his defenses didn’t drop. Lucas sighed, pulling back a bit. “As your guardian, I’m doing what I think is best for you. I’m trying to give you a chance here, Anthony.”

Crowley was fuming. Bea hesitantly placed a hand on his arm, only for Crowley to tear away from them and stomp off towards his room. Lucas and Bea watched him leave, listening to the slam of the door before sharing a hopeless look.

Upstairs in his room, Crowley pressed his back against the door, fighting against the hot tears that threatened to spill. None of this was fair. First he lost his parents, now he was losing his freedom. He felt helpless here, trapped. He tried to remind himself that he only had a few years left to go before he was able to go out on his own, but even those few years felt like an eternity from the little bedroom he’d locked himself in. 

He took a sharp breath, trying to keep himself calm. His head was pounding. Clearing the bed of boxes, he curled up under the dusty covers. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, but eventually he succumbed to a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the chapters will get longer and more interesting later. Not gonna lie, I've been working on this fic for long enough that reading through the first few chapters is causing me some grief, but I'm too stubborn to change anything. Anyways, no content warnings for this one, besides brief mentions of smoking. Enjoy!

The weekend passed fairly uneventfully. Crowley avoided his uncle like the plague, and stayed holed up in his room. He was scrolling mindlessly through Instagram when Bea popped their head in. 

“You still haven’t unpacked,” It wasn’t really a question. They poked one of the various boxes with the toe of their boot. Crowley only shrugged in response, not breaking his unseeing stare as he scrolled through his feed. He heard Bea sigh, and felt them sit down on the bed next to him. Neither said anything for a long time. Bea fidgeted, Crowley kept scrolling. Eventually, they got tired of the tense silence, and turned to Crowley.

“You can’t keep this up y’know,” Crowley glanced up, finally. “The whole time you’re here.” They stared at each other for a moment, before Crowley quickly turned back down to his phone.

“I can sure as hell try.” Was all he said. Bea pursed their lips, frowning slightly. Crowley was being an ass. He knew it, and he felt like shit about it. This wasn’t Bea’s fault, but here he was, making it their problem anyways. Mucking up everything again. He let his phone fall against his chest, looking up at them. A silent signal that he was listening.

“You’ve only got to deal with him a few more years. And then you can go wherever you want. Just a few more years.” They shook their head. “But until then, you’ve just got to make do, alright? Don’t piss him off too often, it’ll just make things worse for you. I don’t think either of us want that.” The two locked eyes for a minute, before Crowley caved, and nodded a bit. Just make do. Only a few more years.  _ Right _ .

*~~~*

Crowley looked in the mirror, tugging at his collar. The school uniforms were stupid, if you asked him, but at least they let you choose which colour of vest and tie you wore. He liked how he looked in his wine red vest, black tie loose and hanging low against his chest. He glanced back to where his uncle was speaking to the store cashier, and then to his reflection in the full-length mirror of the store. He unbuttoned the collar, and felt a little bit more like he could breathe.

Lucas must’ve finished chatting up the employee at the counter, because he walked over to where Crowley was still fidgeting with the uniform. He gave his nephew a quick once-over, before he leaned in to fix his collar and tie. Crowley had to restrain himself from wrenching away, tear the tie from his neck and rip apart the buttons. He stood stock-still as Lucas re-buttoned his shirt and tightened his tie back to its chokehold on his neck, mumbling something about  _ you and Bea, honestly, if you’d leave it alone for five minutes it wouldn’t be so bad. _

Crowley waited for him to turn away, go back to paying for the damned uniform before he yanked the tie back down and unbuttoned the collar once more, glaring at the back of Lucas’ black-haired head. He could hear the sardonic smile on his uncle’s face from where he was, five feet away. Laughing at whatever unfunny thing the cashier said as she rang them up.

He ripped off the uniform as quickly as he could after that, ecstatic to be back in his ratty Queen tee. 

*~~~*

Crowley stared up at the imposing building in front of him. It was older than dirt, all brick and ivy-grown and stuffy. He vaguely registered Bea talking to him, probably about the best smoking spots or which teachers are the most fun to piss off. If you’d have asked him, he’d have denied being nervous at all, regardless of his shaking hands giving him away easily where they were gripping tight at the strap of his bag. 

“Oi! Are you even listening to me?” Crowley snaps out of his stupor and blinks at Bea through his sunglasses. They rolled their eyes, before tugging him along with them up the steps. “As I was  _ saying _ , you meet us here during third hour and we’ll go have a smoke.”

“Us?” Bea glared at him again.

“Yes, ‘ _ us _ ’. You’ll meet Hastur, Ligur, and I. And then we’ll go have a smoke. Do I need to spell anything else out for you?” 

“No, no, I’m fine.” He was fidgeting, he knew it. He tied up his fiery red hair in a quick half-bun and secured his sunglasses on his face. With that, the two finally made their way inside. 

The heavy oak doors slammed behind them, and Crowley glanced around. The main corridor was huge, spanning on and on with a stair-case at the end. Lockers lined the walls, where a few other students were chatting before first period started. 

“You know where your locker is?” Bea asked. Crowley nodded silently, still taking in the sight of the ancient building. Bea clapped him on the shoulder, before walking off. “Don’t forget, third hour-- At the stairs!” They called over their shoulder. With that, they disappeared around the corner, and Crowley was left alone. 

He wandered the halls a bit, scoping out all the classrooms. As he walked around the bottom floor, he came across a board displaying posters for various clubs and extracurriculars. He’d been inspecting the art club hours when a girl popped up next to him and pinned up yet another paper. She inspected her handiwork for a moment, before turning to Crowley. She was a few inches shorter than him (most people were.) and wore round, wire framed glasses. In her hand were more papers, presumably copies of the one she just put up, though Crowley couldn’t make out the print from this angle. She considered him for a moment, before speaking in a distinct American accent. 

“You’re new here.” It wasn’t a question. Crowley was taken aback for a moment before recovering.

“What gave me away?” He shot her a biting smirk. She looked him up and down, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Before Crowley could respond, she took a paper off the stack and handed it to him. “You should stop by and volunteer, since you’re new and all. It might help you get settled in.” Crowley stared owlishly at her for a moment, before he finally read the flyer. 

_ Volunteers Needed! Come help out Tadfield Academy’s Library. Volunteers needed from 3:30 to 6:00 pm, Monday through Friday. Talk to Ms. Tracy (Rm 203) for more details. _

“You don’t really think-” Crowley started, but the girl was gone. He shook his head, adjusting the strap of his bag before continuing his scope of the place. He passed by a bin, and considered tossing the flyer away. He stared at it a moment longer, before shoving it in his bag and walking off. 

  
He didn’t know what it was that kept him from tossing the flyer. His uncle’s words rang through his head.  _ Find something productive to do. Keep yourself out of trouble. _ Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed, I should be able to get Chapter Three out next Tuesday. Comments and Kudos are VERY appreciated!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update, some stuff came up and I forgot to post yesterday. Hopefully the formatting isn't weird, I have to update from my phone aaa  
>  Anyways, enjoy!

_ Room 203, Ms. Tracy _

Crowley caught himself staring at the door. He probably looked like a freak, standing in the middle of the crowded hallway like that. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It was third period, and he needed to find Bea. 

He rounded the corner, tapping out a text to his cousin, when he knocked into someone. He stumbled a bit, but stayed upright. The same could not be said for the person he ran into. Crowley looked down to see a boy with dark hair and thick glasses frantically picking up the green papers scattered from his fall. Crowley debated with himself for a moment, before bending down to help him pick up. 

“Sorry about that, mate.” He said, pasting on a smile. He handed a few of the papers back to the boy, who finally looked up. He stared doe-eyed at Crowley, before hesitantly reaching out to take the papers. They continued picking up the green slips, when Crowley finally read what they were for.

"You’re with the library?” He asked. The boy looked back up at him, nodding. He looked petrified, though Crowley figured he had that effect on people. “Er, what do you need so many volunteers for, anyways?” The boy stuttered, as if surprised to be asked more than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. 

“Oh! We have to-er, well, we don’t actually have a lot of people signed up. There’s- there’s only three of us. Currently.” He cleared his throat, and they stared at each other. “Oh, um, I’m Newt.” He shifted the papers to one arm, and stuck out his free hand for Crowley to shake. Crowley stared at Newt’s hand, before finally accepting it.

“Crowley,” He said. “So, what do the three of you do? I mean, isn’t the librarian supposed to handle the library?” Newt let out an awkward laugh.

“Well, she left. A while ago, she quit, and we haven’t gotten a new one, so we’ve been operating through student volunteers.” He shrugged. “Oh, um, I should really get-get going, but, feel free to drop by. If you’re interested, I mean.” Newt scurried off, leaving Crowley to wonder what the hell just happened. 

“Right,” He said to the now empty hallway. He really needed to find Bea.

*~~~*

"You’re late.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Well hello to you too.” He was met with Bea’s unrelenting glare. “Got caught up. We’ve still got plenty of time left.” He shrugged, Walking over to where Hastur and Ligur were, already blowing puffs of smoke into the sky. “Hey, guys. Long time no see.” They both looked at him with disdain. 

“Took you long enough. Was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” Said Ligur, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his fingers.

" Right, well, you know how it is. New halls and all that, had to look around for a bit just to-”   


" What, do you need a map or something?” Hastur asked, wearing a sharp grin. He freaked Crowley out, if he was honest. And he always smelled like shit. “Could send Bea to hold your hand if you want.” The two snickered, and Crowley forced an awkward chuckle. 

He’d known Hastur and Ligur as long as he’d known Bea. The three were practically inseparable, always running around and causing trouble. They’d known fairly early on that they were the freaks, the social outcasts, the runts of the pack. They didn’t have any choice but to stick together, power in numbers and all that. Crowley and his parents had visited often, when they were younger, so he’d gotten roped into their antics. The four of them were unstoppable, or at least it felt like it.

That didn’t mean Crowley really  _ liked _ Hastur and Ligur, though. They were a packaged deal, known each other longer than they’d known Bea or Crowley. No one was even sure how they met, only that they were scarcely seen without the other. They complimented each other, in their own sort of way. Two halves of one whole idiot, Crowley liked to think. It was a wonder that Bea put up with them for this long.

His cousin appeared beside him, holding out a cigarette for him. He took it gratefully, accepting their offered lighter. The four smoked mostly in silence, and Crowley took the opportunity to see how much they’d all changed. 

Hastur and Ligur were complete opposites, visually. Hastur was tall and lanky, almost as tall as Crowley, while Ligur was shorter and a bit more stout. Hastur’s eyes were nearly as dark as Bea’s, and about twice as cold. It was a stark contrast to Ligur’s unnaturally green eyes. Ligur had near-black curls, coiled tight against his head, off-set by Hastur’s stringy blond hair. The two wore heavy coats over their uniforms, making them look much more threatening than they really were. For all their gusto and dramatics, Hastur and Ligur had never done anything genuinely terrible. They were mostly out to impress each other, if you asked Crowley. That didn’t mean they weren’t creepy as hell, though.

He watched them talk, not entirely registering anything they were saying. His thoughts went to the flyer in his bag. It could be worth checking out. Crowley was never a big reader, but he liked books enough. When he was little, his mum would take him to the library every weekend, and they’d pick out a book to read together. That was before she got busy. 

He found himself smiling fondly at the memory, only to be ripped back to the present by Hastur. 

"What’s got you smiling like that?” He asked, a sneer colouring his voice. Crowley dropped the smile immediately, taking a long drag of the cigarette. It was going to be a long year. 

*~~~*

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. Crowley didn’t pass by room 203 again, with all of his later classes being on the ground floor. He sat in World History, hardly able to keep his eyes open, when the final bell rang. Everyone gathered their bags and filed through the door, eager to get home. 

Crowley had barely managed to peel himself out of his seat when an older woman came in, bright red curls bouncing. 

“Mr. Shadwell!” She called. Crowley glanced behind him to see the old man still seated at his desk, squinting at her. 

“Aye, Tracy, whatsit now?” Crowley looked back to the woman. This is Ms. Tracy? He wasn’t sure what he expected, but a woman in beaded jewelry and bohemian-style shawl wasn’t his first guess. Mr. Shadwell seemed to notice Crowley still standing there, and he made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go along, boy! ‘Ve got… other matters to attend to.” The man eyed Ms. Tracy as he said it.

" Oh, Mr. Shadwell, be nice.” She swatted his arm, before giving Crowley a beaming smile. “What did you need, love?” 

" Er, I was just le-” He stopped. As much as he loathed the idea of wasting his time like this, maybe if he could keep up good behavior for a bit, Lucas would lay off. Crowley figured a semester of library volunteer work, and he’d be free. Besides, how hard could it be? It’s a library, there couldn’t be too much to do, right? He swore he could feel the flyer crinkling in his bag.

“What was that?” Ms. Tracy just kept smiling. Crowley reached into his bag, and pulled out the crumpled paper. 

"I, uh, I found this today. I’m new, and I was wondering…” 

"You’re Mr. Morningstar’s nephew! I thought you were a new face, yes.” Her grin grew brighter, if that was at all possible. “Were you thinking about volunteering?” Crowley thought for a moment, before nodding, giving his most innocent smile. 

“I was, yeah.” Ms. Tracy clapped.

“Wonderful! I’ve got to grab the sign up sheet, just a moment-” Mr. Shadwell cleared his throat. She turned to him. “Oh, right. Mr. Shadwell, we’re still on for lunch tomorrow, yes? Good.” She turned on her heel and left, gesturing for Crowley to follow. He did, a smug grin on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Next chapter is probably my second favorite out of the ones I've written so 
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated! ❤


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the volunteers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the late update, school has been absolutely kicking my ass and I completely forgot what day it was whoops
> 
> Anyways, enjoy my second favorite chapter of this fic

Crowley was lurking. He knew he was, but really, he couldn’t help it. He made his way through the stacks, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Ms. Tracy had told him what he’d needed to do, but he’d found it difficult to keep up with what she was saying. 

When he’d finally managed to get outside the building after Ms. Tracy finished explaining everything, he had found Bea waiting for him by the steps.

“And here I was thinking you’d gone and left without me.” They were obviously miffed, if the angry buzz in their voice was anything to go off of. “I really hope this isn’t going to be a constant thing.” Crowley simply shrugged, giving them a charming smile. 

“Nothing wrong with being fashionably late.” They fixed him with a glare. “It was only five minutes, calm down.” And with that, they had made their way home.

He heard the library door open, and then slam shut again, followed by voices. Well, one voice, which sounded a bit familiar.

“All I’m saying is that an event of some sort would be a lot of help. It doesn’t have to be big, or anything -- maybe a writing contest! Zee would like that, don’t you think?” Crowley peered around the corner and saw the girl with the glasses talking to Newt, their bags thumping down onto a nearby table. “Either way, a little PR would probably help get the word out, because obviously these--” She waved a poster around wildly. “--aren’t cutting it.” Crowley stepped out from behind the bookshelf, and finally Newt noticed him over the girl’s shoulder. 

“Er, Ana-”

“I mean, honestly, nobody even reads the bulletins! How are we supposed to get any help if--” She noticed Newt’s pointing behind her, and turned toward Crowley. “Oh. Huh.” She smoothed out her long skirt. “You showed.”

“Yeah, I was just-”

“I’m assuming Tracy filled you in on how all this works.” She didn’t wait for his response. “Right, we’re here until about six. We really need help with reshelving. Newt’s going to help you with that-” She gestured to the books stacked on a small cart “- and Aziraphale and I will handle checking them back in.” She didn’t look at him the entire time she spoke, instead working on booting up the computers. 

“Who?” Crowley didn’t even bother trying to pronounce the name. Quite a mouthful, that.

“Aziraphale. He’s a veteran, basically. Probably been volunteering since the day after the last librarian left. He sort of runs things around here when Tracy’s busy, which is most of the time.” She sat down at the computer, sighing. “He should be here soon. Hopefully.” She shook her head, her brown curls bouncing. “Anyways, you should probably get to work, if you want to leave on time.” And with that, she waved him off. 

Crowley idly picked one of the books up off the cart. The Screwtape Letters. He looked back up at the girl. “What was your name again?” She startled, as if she hadn’t realized Crowley was still standing there. She gave him a long look.

“Anathema.” She said, at length. And went back to typing. 

*~~~*

About fifteen minutes of silence passed, filled only by the sound of books being shelved and Anathema scanning in books. Crowley felt like he was going insane with the quiet. He longed for his headphones, but unfortunately the school had a strict ‘no earpiece’ policy, and they were left sitting discarded on his bed at the moment.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of the library door slamming shut, and he spotted a harried looking boy walking towards Anathema. As the two talked, Crowley got a good look at the boy. He wore a light blue vest, with a tartan bow tie, (A bold choice, if you asked Crowley.) and an off-white dress shirt tucked into khaki colored pants. His blond hair looked like cotton, or maybe dandelion fluff. Soft to the touch, surely. Crowley shook his head. No good, those thoughts. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Anathema, I got held up with helping Brian finish his maths -- you know how behind he gets -- and I lost track of time--”

“It’s fine, Zira, I get that you’re busy. Just text me next time, so I know you aren’t dead.” She rolled her eyes jokingly, and the boy, Aziraphale, Crowley figured, smiled bashfully back. He seemed cute, soft. Definitely not someone who would get along with the likes of Crowley. “Oh right,” Anathema turned to Crowley, gesturing for him to come over to them. He complied, sauntering over and stopping a few feet short of the two. “This is Crowley.” Aziraphale gave him a doe eyed look for a moment, before giving a small, bright smile that did all kinds of things to Crowley’s chest. 

“You’re Mr. Morningstar’s nephew, yes?” Aziraphale asked tentatively. He seemed wary of Crowley, like he was afraid that he’d bite Aziraphale’s head off if he made a wrong move. 

Probably for the best, Crowley thought. This would all be easier if everyone just cleared away from him as far as possible.

“Unfortunately,” He answered. Aziraphale let out a nervous chuckle. “So, you’re the one who runs things around here?”

“Well, sort of. Whenever Tracy’s busy I step in, but there really isn’t much to run. Anathema and Newt both know what they’re meant to do, I really only help with what I can.” Anathema scoffed.

“Please. You could probably run this place by yourself if you knew how to work a computer.” Aziraphale blushed, opening his mouth to respond, but Anathema cut him off. “Anyways. We should really get to work. Aunt Agnes wants to watch British Bake-Off with me and I cannot be late for that again.” She turned on her heel and walked back to the computer.

“Thank you, for helping us out here.” Aziraphale said, once Anathema walked off. “We can really use it.” Crowley quirked an eyebrow.

“What, not getting things done quick enough? There can’t be that much to do around here.” Aziraphale gave another awkward laugh. 

“You’d be surprised.” He said, smiling a bit. “Really though, thank you. It was very kind of you.” Crowley grimaced a bit.

“‘M not. Just trying to spend as little time with my uncle as possible.” 

“Well, whatever your motives, we’re very glad to have you here.” 

“Zira!” Anathema was making a “hurry up” gesture, and Aziraphale gave Crowley another bashful smile before joining Anathema at the computers. Crowley watched him walk away, a bit lost on what to do. He locked eyes with Anathema for a moment, before she gave him a small, almost sly smile, and shooed him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the late update, I'll try to get the next chapter up on time next week


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should just move the update day to Friday, seeing as I seem to only remember to post then. Anyways, sorry that the chapters have been so short, but the next one is pretty long so hopefully it makes up for it. Enjoy!

Crowley slunk into his seat at the dining room table as inconspicuously as possible. This was to say that he slid into the chair with all the obnoxious grace of a remote controlled ragdoll, arranging his limbs into a pose which could only vaguely be described as “sitting”. Lucas stared at him a moment. Crowley stared back through his dark glasses. Bea decidedly did not look at either of them. 

“You were awfully late getting home today.” His uncle finally spoke. “Where were you?”

“What does it matter to you? You weren’t here anyways.” He knew he was being a twat, but the angry frown on his uncle’s face at the disrespect was too good to pass up. He took a bite of the chicken in front of him. It felt like sawdust in his mouth.

“Because I like to know what you’re getting up to.” Lucas said simply, his face remaining sternly blank. 

“You just like knowing I’m not out wreaking havoc.” Crowley muttered. “Anyways, I was helping out at the library. Y’know, staying out of trouble?” Lucas’s expression morphed into one of surprise. Crowley had to fight off a smirk at his uncle’s shock. Prove him wrong.

Lucas hummed, probably trying to save face. Crowley looked over to Bea, who was staring at their cousin, fork poised half to their mouth. He gave a smug grin, and the three continued eating in silence. Quick and painless. “Now, just to keep this up for a few months, and I’m free,” Crowley thought.

*~~~*

“What the hell are you planning?” Crowley looked up from his phone to see Bea standing at the side of his bed.

“Don’t you ever come in here just to say ‘hello’?” Bea glared at him, crossing their arms over their chest. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“I’m not planning anything.” Bea fell next to him on the bed, scoffing. Crowley’s room was finally unpacked, with only a few stray things waiting to be put to rights.

“Sure you’re not. Y’know, just because he’s slow to realize your schemes--” Bea pointed toward the door. “-- doesn’t mean you’re sly. So spill.” Crowley sighed dramatically. 

“Fine. Remember his whole thing about me doing something “productive” with my time, to keep out of trouble, or whatever?” Bea nodded. “I figured I’d just get it out of the way. The library thing can’t be that hard, and he’ll probably only keep up with it for a semester. If I just keep up with this I can get out on good behavior.” Crowley shrugged, smiling faintly at being able to share his plan with someone.

“You really think it’ll work?” They asked incredulously. Crowley nodded. “Alright, so you’re just planning on spending hours at the school library every day until he lets you off?” 

“I mean, I figured I’d blow it off most of the time. But I’ve got to spend enough time there that he doesn’t get suspicious. Plausible deniability and all that.” He waved his hand. Bea looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable. 

“You really think he’s just going to trust that you’re just off sorting books at the school until six?” Crowley opened his mouth to retort, but Bea kept going. “Look, you can go through with this if you want, I don’t care, I can’t stop you. But don’t you think it’s a waste of time? I mean, you really think this is going to prove him wrong?” 

Crowley thought for a moment. Bea made a good point. But then, Crowley’s thoughts went to dandelion blond hair and a blue jumper, and he couldn’t help feeling like he should hold out on his plan for a bit.

“It’ll work.” He said, definitive. Bea gave him another hard look, then shrugged. 

“Well, whatever you think is best. Anyways,” They shifted and sat with their legs crossed on the bed. “What did you think of Ms. Ashtoreth?” They grinned wickedly, and the two settled into their usual conversation.

*~~~*

The week progressed rather uneventfully. Crowley went to class, skipped every once in a while with Bea, and most days he helped out at the library. He didn’t talk to the other volunteers. They seemed like such a tight-knit group, and he knew his place. Head down, don’t make friends, sarcasm and snark is all you need to get through this place. He constantly had a mantra of “Three more years.” running through his head, a reminder not to get too attached. 

Anathema tapped him on the shoulder. He pulled off his headphones, which he’d stashed into his backpack far enough that neither Lucas nor the teachers could see them. 

“Hey, we were going to go to the tea shop a couple blocks away when we finished up here, you wanna come?” Crowley stared at her. It was Friday, and he told Bea he would meet them and Haster and Ligur at the abandoned park for a smoke and maybe some mischief. 

“By ‘we’, you mean…?” Anathema rolled her eyes.

“I mean ‘us’, dummy. Me and Newt and Aziraphale. You coming?” Crowley didn’t answer for a minute. He thought of Bea. He thought of Aziraphale. 

See, Crowley thought Aziraphale was interesting. When they first met, Aziraphale had been skittish and afraid. He was polite, sure, and had a calming presence, but he was intimidated by Crowley. Since then, they hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to talk, whether it was because Aziraphale stayed later than the rest of them and Crowley was always in a hurry to get out, or because Crowley was afraid of letting him get too close. But Crowley thought he was interesting. Whenever any other students came in after school-- For clubs, or tutoring, or for a book that they needed for a project due the next day-- Aziraphale changed. He was totally in his element, helping people find the perfect book for their report, checking books back in, figuring an algebra problem for some poor, struggling sod. Crowley had thought Anathema had been exaggerating when she said Aziraphale could run this place by himself, but she was right. 

He’d seen how kind Aziraphale was. The way his delicate hands handle the older books on the shelves. The way he handled stressed students who were driven nearly to tears and were looking for a moment of solace. Crowley thought about the number of times he’d been in their place, and how he could have used someone like Aziraphale. How much easier it would have been if he’d had someone like Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale didn’t talk to Crowley like that. Nobody did. 

He thought about Bea again. 

“Sure.” He said simply. “I’ll go.” Maybe it was time for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!  
> Next chapter is my favorite in the fic so far, so be on the lookout next week. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are very appreciated! My Tumblr is @ crowleys-own-eden if you want to come talk to me there :^)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley joins the others at the Cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaa this chapter is super late sorry :^(  
> I've had family over this week and I never had a chance to post, whoops. Anyways, here's my favorite chapter so far, hope you enjoy :^)

The tea shop was nice, Crowley supposed. It was exactly what you would expect from a small town tea shop, anyways. Which was to say, it was cozy. Crowley usually didn’t go in for cozy, as a rule, but he supposed he could stand this. The four of them were seated in a booth towards the back, mostly secluded from the sparse patrons that were scattered around the other tables. 

Crowley was not tuned into the conversation. He kept his expression as unreadable as possible, nodding or chuckling when it seemed appropriate. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there. It was only that, well, this was uncharted territory, wasn’t it? Meeting up with new people and just. Talking. He cast his eyes around the other three. They seemed to get along so easy with each other, like this was nothing. To them, it probably was nothing. This was something that they did all the time. 

Crowley let his eyes fall on each of the other three. Anathema was listening intently to Newt as he prattled on about some new computer or another. She watched him fondly, and when she caught his eye they smiled at one another, before Newt looked away, clearly shy. It was almost painfully obvious that they liked each other, though Crowley couldn’t fault them for it. Crowley never really was the type for romance, but he didn’t see any point in letting that ruin the fun for others. 

Aziraphale’s laugh rang out like bells next to Crowley, suddenly drawing him back into the conversation. It was an easy sound, completely genuine. Nothing like the bitter laughs he heard from Bea, or the dark chuckles from Hastur and Ligur, the ones that felt like something crawling up Crowley’s spine. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, just for a second, and smiled. Crowley found it hard not to smile back. 

“So, Crowley, where did you transfer from, anyways?” Anathema looked pointedly at him, like she was trying to pull the information out of him with that look alone.

“Er, up in London. Lived in a flat in Mayfair with my parents.” Newt’s eyebrows shot up.

“Mayfair? Isn’t that, like, super expensive?” Anathema elbowed him, but Newt seemed unphased. 

“Yeah, I mean, it isn’t the cheapest. It really isn’t as nice as they say though, if you were wondering.” Anathema chuckled a bit at that, and Newt nodded awkwardly. Crowley thought he caught Aziraphale smiling out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t tell for certain. 

“So, why’d you come here? You mentioned you were staying with your uncle, right?” Anathema asked. Crowley felt his stomach drop, cold lead pooling in the pit of it. He grimaced, turned to look at the wall next to him. It felt like all their eyes were burning into his skull. 

“It’s nothing. Boring story, you wouldn’t want to hear it.” He mumbled, hoping it would be enough to drop the subject. He couldn’t talk about this here, not now, not with them. Let them know how fucked up you are? Not a chance.

“Aw, c’mon, I asked didn’t I?” Anathema pressed gently, a small smile on her face. Crowley knew she didn’t mean anything by it, that she was just making conversation, but it still left a burning, writhing feeling in his chest. Say something, you’re taking too long to talk, say something!

“Anathema,” Aziraphale hissed at her. Crowley couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the look Aziraphale gave Anathema. He caught her guilty look out of the corner of his eye, and felt some sort of satisfaction, and a whole hell of a lot of relief. Thank God for Aziraphale. Some kind of Angel, he is.

Crowley took a breath. “I’ll… be right back.” He gave a tight smile, and after an awkward shuffle with Aziraphale made it out of the booth. He made a bee-line for the bathrooms, and locked the door behind him. He pressed his back against it, ignoring the way the small sign on it dug into his skin. He looked across him, into the mirror, and scowled. What was he doing? He was Anthony J. Crowley, for fuck’s sake! What was he doing hiding away in a bakery bathroom for? Because some ignorant twat of an American didn’t know about his dead parents? Really, he was better than this. What would dad have thought?

It doesn’t matter now, does it? 

Crowley took a deep breath, staving off the burning feeling in his eyes. It nearly worked, until it didn’t. He hesitantly pulled off his sunglasses, looking everywhere but the mirror. The light burned a bit, but it was fine. He took a steeling breath, walked towards the mirror, and finally met his own eyes in the reflection. He had to hold back a grimace. 

His eyes were red at the corners with unshed tears, clashing horribly with the amber-yellow of his irises. He had to resist the urge to claw them out, in that moment. This wasn’t anything new; he’d always hated the key-hole shaped pupils, the sickly color of his eyes. The way they made him look like something other-worldly. Like a demon, he remembered being told.

Coloboma, the doctor had said. The word was foreign on Crowley’s five year old tongue, and it took him a while to learn what it meant. It meant his eyes hurt when he didn’t cover them, he got headaches constantly, he couldn’t read right, couldn’t see right, didn’t look right. His parents had never made him feel worse for it, but they didn’t have to. His classmates handled that just fine, and Crowley started wearing tinted glasses in year two, much to the dismay of certain teachers who didn’t like not knowing when he was watching them, and certain classmates who would miss shouting names at him on the playground.

There was a knock at the door, and Crowley instinctively shoved his glasses back on hard enough that the nose piece dug painfully into his skin. He took another breath, before opening the door and brushing past the man waiting. 

Back at the table, Anathema shot him an apologetic look, before turning back to Newt. He didn’t know if Aziraphale told her anything, or if Aziraphale even knew, but he was thankful that they had moved on from it.

They didn’t stay too terribly long after that, with the shop closing earlier on Fridays, and eventually they filtered out of the cozy shop. It had gotten colder outside, with the changing seasons, and the wind was biting through Crowley’s clothes. He tried to suppress a shiver, but to no avail. Of course he hadn’t thought to bring a coat today.

Aziraphale noticed his shivering. “Oh, dear, here you can borrow mine--” Crowley tried to stop him, but he was already shrugging out of it. Crowley stared at the proffered article.

“Won’t you just be cold then?” Crowley asked. “Seems a bit of a waste to me.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“I don’t think so. I run warm, you need it more than I do.” Crowley just kept staring at him, then the coat, then back. Do something, idiot. Finally, he took it from Aziraphale’s hand. Their hands brushed, just barely, as he took it, and Crowley noticed faintly that they were, in fact, very warm. He tried not to think about his own freezing hands, how unpleasant they must feel. 

As he put it on, he noticed how big it was on him, how it was like he was being drowned in light blue fleece. It made him feel small, and he hoped Aziraphale would just chalk the reddening of his face to being from the cold. He glanced at Aziraphale, and noticed him staring, but when he turned his head Aziraphale looked away. Odd.

“Um,” Said Aziraphale. “I wanted to apologize for what Anathema said. She didn’t mean to upset you, she doesn’t really keep up with that sort of news.” Crowley’s hands twitched, and he gripped the edges of the coat. 

“It’s fine, she didn’t know.” He said shortly, hoping Aziraphale would just drop it. 

“I’m really sorry about--”

“Don’t.” 

Crowley hadn’t meant for it to come out so bitter. He was just so, so sick of hearing it. How sorry everyone was. How they were in a “better place now.” How Crowley was so strong, look at how well you’ve been doing! He’d gotten his fill of that at the funeral, thank you. 

He stole a glance at Aziraphale. He looked caught off guard, a bit apologetic perhaps, but he didn’t seem hurt by Crowley’s harshness. What’s more, he didn’t look like he was really pitying Crowley. Great, now Crowley was the one being an ass. He looked down, guilt gnawing at him.

“Sorry, just--”

“It’s okay.” Aziraphale smiled sadly at him. “I understand.” Crowley let out a hollow laugh.

“Do you?” He looked at Aziraphale. The smile was gone, replaced by a sad look. Crowley hated that look on him, but couldn’t place why.

“Ah, I suppose not.” He looked at his shoes, a scuffed pair of oxfords. Well-worn, well-loved, just like the coat it seemed. “Still though, I hope you know you don’t have to be on your own. I can’t imagine what it’s like, but I know it’s never good to get caught up in your own head.” Aziraphale stole a look at Crowley, flashing him the same small smile. Crowley snorted.

“You sound like my therapist.” Crowley said. Then, he realized what he said. Fuck. “I mean--” He stopped. Looked away. Nice going. Let everyone know how fucked up you are.

“It’s alright.” Aziraphale pressed a hand to his arm, hesitant. Still afraid. His hand was warm through the fabric of the jacket. “I kind of figured you’d have one. I mean, not exactly something you get better from without one, right?” Crowley stared at him. Aziraphale stared back, then took his hand away, seeming anxious. Crowley caught himself nearly mourning the loss. 

“Oh, my ride’s here, I better go.” He took a step towards the silver buggy, then stopped, turned back around. “Do you need a ride?” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m fine. Here--” He started to take the coat off, but Aziraphale shook his head.

“Keep it, I’ll see you on Monday, you can give it back then.” He grinned, a small dimple showing on either cheek. Crowley took a minute to respond. 

“Won’t you need it before then?” Aziraphale shook his head again, still grinning. “Huh. You’re a right angel, you know?” He mumbled the last bit, not expecting the blond to hear it. By the way his face flushed, and his eyebrows shot up, Crowley hadn’t been quite as quiet as he’d thought. “Er, sorry--”

“No!” Aziraphale said quickly, then caught himself. He swallowed. “It’s not-- I mean it’s just-- funny.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Aziraphale said, and the grin was back. “It’s funny, because ‘Aziraphale’ is the name of an Angel. In the Bible.” Crowley let his mouth drop open, trying to think of something to say. The silver buggy honked from across the street, and Crowley shut his mouth with a ‘click’.

“Bye, Crowley. I’ll see you Monday?” 

“Yeah, see you Monday.” It was Crowley’s turn to grin now. “Bye, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, i hope you enjoyed. I'm pretty sure this is where the chapters start getting longer, so hopefully that will tie you guys over. I might slow down in posting because I've fallen behind on writing here, but I'm also working on a pretty cute oneshot that should be done soon-ish, so be on the lookout
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Also I'm on Tumblr at crowleys-own-eden and Instagram at robitherat so if you wanna chat come find me :^)


End file.
